


thought and favor

by basketofnovas (slashmarks)



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Impression (Dragonriders of Pern)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmarks/pseuds/basketofnovas
Summary: Menolly Impresses at the end of her first week at the Weyr.
Relationships: Menolly/Mirrim (Dragonriders of Pern)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	thought and favor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChokolatteJedi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChokolatteJedi/gifts).



> I hope my recipient enjoys this fic! Canon notes at the end.

A bronze blur streaked into the Hatching Ground in the corner of Menolly's eye. A moment of pure mortification and the conviction that it was Diver brought her over the bottom two tiers of seats in front of her - empty, the closest attendees were the miners in the row behind - and onto the Sands before she realized that it was another fire lizard entirely. By then momentum was already carrying her on between the trajectory of the bronze fire lizard and the queen hatchling.

Ramoth trumpeted. Brekke, too, moved, extending her arm towards Menolly and the fire lizard as she woke at last from her trance-like state: "Berd! Don't!"

He screamed at the little queen, swerving around Menolly, who moved with Berd, thinking forcefully toward him to move back. It was the way she had learned to communicate with Beauty, although she had no idea if he would hear her. The queen creeled in fear; one of the other girls had moved up to shield her, and she hid between the candidate and Menolly.

The candidate looked at Brekke, tensely, then turned towards Menolly, a question on her face. Menolly started to ask, when the queen butted against her thigh and she looked down into rainbow eyes.

_I'm hungry_ , Arwith told her.

"I'll find you something to eat," Menolly said, dazed, and thinking that at least she wasn't going to have to catch enough spider claws to fill up _this_ dragon's stomach.

Then she understood, and looked up, aghast for a moment, at the candidates, all six of them. But the woman beside her was smiling, and Brekke was standing with a clear face - Mirrim would be so happy - and Arwith was _starving_ , and Menolly could do nothing but put a hand on the queen dragon's shoulders to steady her and start off in the direction of the other successful candidates, to get Arwith her first meal.

She realized in the course of the walk that her healing feet were aching. The soft slippers really didn't give enough protection against the burning sand of the Hatching Grounds, but that, and her consciousness of her stained over tunic, were secondary in comparison with Arwith - her hunger, her delight in Menolly's company, the conviction that Menolly would never again be alone or without someone who _understood_ her. Beauty trilled over her head, and Menolly had a brief pang for the thought that her fire lizards might not understand. But the tone of Beauty's thoughts was unmistakably pleased, and Arwith was stretching up, curiously, to get a better look at Beauty, so Menolly resolved that it would be all right and she would figure out how to introduce them once they were off the Hatching Grounds.

As it turned out meat was available for the new hatchlings already sliced. Menolly thought about the process of carving it in chunks amounting to dragon-sized meals in the future and the scar on her left hand, already stretched from paring roots for hours earlier, ached in sympathetic anticipation. 

Arwith was worried. Arwith didn't want to cause trouble. "You're no trouble, of course," Menolly said, instantly concerned that Arwith should not understand how much Menolly adored her, how much she wanted her. "Why, I found enough food for nine of the fire lizards, and I didn't have anyone around to help me then."

"Right you are," said the weyrlingmaster, coming over to check on them and watching Menolly proffer a particularly juicy lump of meat to Arwith and remind her to _chew_. "Menolly, is it?" he asked. "Well, you've certainly got the knack for it. When she's done eating, you're to get her up to the empty queen's weyr before you let her fall asleep. As a new queen rider you're not in the weyrling barracks. You know where to go? Good," he said, and hurried off.

Menolly stared after him. The thought intruded again that she had not begun to consider what had happened today, but Arwith was nudging her hand, thinking longingly of how empty her stomach still was, and Menolly was moving, automatically, to provide more food. She resolved to do her thinking later.

It was fortunate that Mirrim came looking for her just as Arwith was beginning to sway with exhaustion. By then Menolly's feet had gone from an ache to a dull, throbbing roar, and she wasn't sure she could have walked to the foot of the stairs, let alone made it all the way up while assisting Arwith.

"Menolly!" Mirrim wasn't jealous, or at least didn't look it. She was beaming, face pale with relief. "Brekke is all right, she's going to be all right - she took some food, it's the first she's had in more than a sevenday, and she ate it all - I'm to help you and Arwith get up to the empty queen's weyr. Are your feet hurting you much?"

Menolly tried to demur, but one step and Mirrim's eyes were flashing; she spun away, calling for T'gellan and telling Menolly to wait. So as it happened Mirrim had to do the work of helping Arwith balance on her way up the stone steps to the queen's weyr while she creeled anxiously again after Menolly, who was half-carried up the steps by T'gellan.

"I'm all right," she protested, "I'm really all right."

Arwith wanted to know what was wrong with Menolly's feet, and her hand, which was aching in time with the throbbing in her feet, and Menolly felt near tears again. "I'm fine," she said to Arwith with voice and mind, "I'm really fine, they're getting better."

"Of course they are," Mirrim said, pulling aside the hanging on the door into the empty weyr. It had been cleaned in anticipation of new occupants, the floor swept with fresh rushes and new bedding laid out. "Manora said so this morning, didn't she? T'gellan, help her over here to Arwith. Oh! I hope you feel well enough to go the Hatching Feast, it would be terrible if you had to miss yours because of your feet--"

Arwith wanted to know what had _happened_. Menolly tried to explain that she had been trying to outrun Thread.

Arwith hissed, wide awake again at the memory of her ancestral menace. The fire lizards had collected in the weyr - in Menolly's weyr, she thought, dazed - at some point, and they reacted to Arwith's distress, flapping and crying. Menolly's head ached, too. She reached out and found Beauty and told her to _be quiet_ and please make all of the others behave as well. To Arwith she added that there was no Thread, it had been gone for a week and Menolly had been rescued by T'gran and Branth, and of course next time she met it she would have Arwith with her. So Arwith could rest now that she had eaten, there was nothing to worry about.

There was silence in the weyr. Coming back to herself, Menolly saw that Mirrim and T'gellan were both staring at her and flushed, head lowering. But Arwith's reassurance was so swift and complete that Menolly could not complete the familiar gesture of hanging her head but insead raised her chin again and stared back.

"Well," T'gellan said, slowly, "She certainly has the makings of a queen rider, doesn't she?"

"When she forgets to be embarrassed," Mirrim agreed, but she was smiling.

"Oh - you're not bothered, are you?" Menolly said to Mirrim, thinking again that Mirrim's foster mother had been on the Sands, although Mirrim had not wanted her to re-Impress. 

"Of course not," Mirrim said, and sat down with Menolly on the edge of Arwith's stone bed to hug her. "You were right, when you said everything would come right - Brekke is getting well, and F'nor ate, too - I snitched the best pieces of the wherry for him," she said, giggling suddenly. "Oh, do you want me to bring some up for you? Or _do_ you want to go down to the Feast?"

"I had better change first," Menolly said, looking down at her tunic. The cooking stains from earlier had been nearly covered by new marks from Arwith's first meal.

"You should see the rest of the new weyrlings right now," T'gellan said. "At least you weren't in white."

In the end T'gellan went down from the queen's weyr, saying he would bring up Menolly's things from the cubicle she had been sleeping in, and Mirrim helped Menolly rise. She cast a longing look at Arwith, who had finally fallen asleep, but she knew from her own fire lizards' first weeks and her experience with children at Half Circle that she should take advantage of the time she got while Arwith was napping. In the meantime, Mirrim helped Menolly into the bathing cavern.

"This is just mine?" Menolly said, looking around in wonder for a moment at the pool, deep enough to stand up to her shoulders in water, the shelves empty of any possessions except for a few basics meant for the new rider.

Mirrim grinned. "You're a junior weyrwoman, now," she said. "You should get used to it! Otherwise it's an insult to Benden. It's alright," she said, seeing that Menolly was unnerved without Arwith awake to reassure her. "Do you want to get into the water or sit here, you think? We should at least wash your hair..."

In the end Menolly sat down at the edge of the pool and they worked the sand out of her hair. Then she lay down again to let Mirrim check her feet and apply more numbweed. Manora had found her a dress in stores for T'gellan to bring up, a deep, vibrant blue, of a quality Menolly had never worn before even if it was a bit large in the shoulders and the hem was high on her. "We can resew that for you when we've time," Mirrim said, helping lace up the back so that the shoulders looked right. "You should have at least one nice dress for now, and it'll be ages before you've got the time to be fit for something new with Arwith growing--"

At the reminder, Menolly sent another longing look back towards the weyr, but she made herself ask, "What are we going to do about my feet?"

Her new, soft slippers desperately needed to be cleaned before they could be worn again, and the boots measured for her feet weren't quite ready, not to mention she couldn't have worn them yet anyway. Manora, it transpired, had unearthed a slightly too large pair of slippers from stores, and they wrapped Menolly's feet in soft fabric before putting them on. 

Then Menolly hesitated at the prospect of actually going downstairs. Arwith's presence was so new, so overwhelming, that she had only sporadically thought of what it meant that she had Impressed, when she saw the weyr and when she had asked if Mirrim was upset. But now, faced with the prospect of going down to the Hatching Feast and seeing the unsuccessful candidates, the people who she would have to deal with, she quailed.

"It's alright, Menolly," T'gellan said, meeting her eyes. "The dragon always knows. The Weyr knows that."

"The Holders won't be too upset, since you're one of them," Mirrim said, snorting. "Come on, now, you should try to enjoy it. And I want company," she added, "Brekke's resting."

So Menolly went back down the steps from the queens' weyrs, with T'gellan and Mirrim balancing her on either side, and Beauty settled on her shoulder. She told the rest of the fire lizards sternly to stay in their weyr with Arwith.

The Lower Caverns were ablaze with light and full of sound, and it hit the fatigued Menolly like a wall. She flinched back slightly, and Beauty hissed, but Menolly remembered to calm her to avoid a fuss, and that need for focus helped. Mirrim assisted her to a table and imperiously sent a laughing T'gellan off to bring Menolly food, ordering him around in a way Menolly would never have dared to speak to an older man, let alone a dragonrider. (Menolly was a dragonrider, now!)

"So what happened?" Mirrim said, finally, turning to her.

"What do you mean?" Menolly asked.

"What happened on the Grounds?" Mirrim demanded. "I was so nervous I couldn't look! You were there, weren't you?"

"Well," Menolly gulped, "I was sitting near the edge when Arwith hatched--" She had to struggle not to be lost again by the memory of those rainbow eyes. "And she started towards Brekke, but Berd came flying out and got between them."

"He knew it was a bad idea," Mirrim said, but her face was rapt.

"He tried to scold Arwith away from Brekke," Menolly said. "That was when I - I thought it was Diver, one of my bronzes, and I panicked and went over the seats to the Sands before anything could happen..." She recounted the rest of the episode of her own Impression and Brekke's delivery for Mirrim, Petiron's training resurfacing as she thought through which details to include.

A pang came to her, there. She had half thought of leaving Benden - if only if she had to - and going to the Harper Hall herself, to find out what Masterharper Robinton had thought of her songs, if anything. But of course a queen's rider belonged in a Weyr. Anyway, she had no guarantee that Master Robinton actually thought anything of her songs, or that there would be a place for her in the Harper Hall; and there certainly was here in Benden for gold Arwith's rider! 

And, she thought, remembering her revelation earlier that day, music was not forbidden to her in Benden. No one would have any idea if she sang her own songs or wrote her own music, and what was more, Menolly doubted anyone would dare forbid a weyrwoman from writing it. Watching the other new dragonriders coming into the hall, some dancing or talking to family, but some reclining, exhausted, half asleep in their dinners, she felt a pang, but she brushed it aside. She had Arwith and she could have music - all she had to do was find the time for both.

That concern was prescient. The following weeks were dominated utterly by Arwith's need for food, for oiling and bathing, and for attention when she was awake. When she was asleep, Menolly was instructed - sometimes by the weyrlingmaster, sometimes by, terrifyingly, Lessa and F'lar, as was traditional for queen riders - in being a dragonrider.

Petiron's training, surprisingly, helped immensely. Most candidates, Lessa told her eventually, came to the Weyr better versed in some Teaching Ballads than others. They knew primarily those directly related to their own Hold or Hall's duties and often the more popular songs from their region. But Menolly had been the personal student of Master Petiron, a senior master of the Harper craft, and he had intended her for a Harper, or at least to be able to assist him in instruction. So she had memorized all of the standard ballads completely and could recite or play them by heart without needing to review, which left only the ballads primarily used in the weyrs for her to memorize, and practical instruction in the matters of weyr life.

Those weyr ballads were often more oral than instrumental, with limited chording. They were written primarily by weyrsingers, who tended to be only partially trained musically, since they were often apprentices or new journeymen who answered a Search, or non-rider weyrfolk with part-time training. To her surprise, she was able to compare notes on more or less equal terms even with the current Benden weyrsinger, the first journeyman Harper stationed officially at Benden in years.

"I wouldn't be surprised but you're better trained than me," Oharan admitted to Menolly one day.

They had been discussing a ballad Menolly was memorizing on the issue of dragon egg clutches, which went into much greater technical detail than the Holder version. There was a score for the vocals with options for several different voice ranges, but no accompaniment. Menolly had brought her copy down to ask Oharan if he knew of one over the evening meal, and had found herself handed the gitar when she admitted she had one in mind already from the lesson.

Menolly started to demur, but Arwith, who was just drifting to sleep after her own meal, insisted that Menolly was the best, smartest, prettiest person in the world, and why shouldn't she play the best music, too? so that she broke off from her protests with a smile. "--Let me see if I can get the chording down," she said instead, accepting the instrument Oharan handed over, now with no great ceremony after the past month.

She forgot about the food sitting next to her in her desire to come up with a good chord progression for the new ballad. It might not technically be necessary, but accompaniment kept the ballads in time, made them easier to memorize, more attractive to play. And while Oharan was more than a competent teacher - the most important of his jobs at the weyr - and a good performer, he readily admitted that composition was not a specialty of his.

"Your food has gone cold," Mirrim said, some unknown amount of time later. Menolly jumped. "And I'm sure Oharan is hungry, too," Mirrim added, pulling a chair out and sitting down, unceremoniously plopping a bowl of meat scraps onto the center of the table. " _And_ your fire lizards. Don't tell me you had time to feed Arwith and your whole fair already today, I know better."

"They eat when she does, you know," Menolly said; but Beauty was stirring from her perch on the table where she wasn't in the way of the gitar, and her other fire lizards were fluttering down or appearing, summoned by the food. It was true, anyway, that feeding Arwith was too demanding a task for her to make sure her fire lizards had an equitable distribution of scraps.

Mirrim had brought enough scraps for the twelve lizards they had between them. Her Reppa, Lok and Tolly were likewise joining Menolly's in the bowl. Tolly, Mirrim noted, had finally healed completely from the injuries he had sustained at his Hatching, and was able to grasp his meat scraps and flutter up to a better perch.

Oharan was looking faintly nauseated by all of the raw meat and excused himself, bidding good day to Menolly and to Arwith. Menolly, absently shoveling cold food in her mouth with barely more decorum than the fire lizards, reflected that it had not taken any time at all for her to become used to certain things about the weyr (or just being a dragonrider).

"How's Arwith doing?" Mirrim asked, eating her own dinner much more slowly. 

"Good," Menolly said, truthfully. "Lessa says she's not quite Ramoth's size at this age, but she's not under the same pressures as Ramoth, and her proportions are just right." She reached out automatically, but Arwith had finally drifted to sleep in the weyr. She hesitated. "How's Brekke?"

She still hadn't met Mirrim's foster mother aside from that day on the Grounds a month ago. While Brekke worked in the Lower Caverns now, and had taken over some duties related to the Rooms discovered in a formerly disused passage, Menolly herself only came down for meals in the evening; and she had some notion Brekke was avoiding her, because the sight of a new queen rider was too terrible a reminder of her own lost Wirenth, who had been only just mature when she died. 

(Menolly's mind shied away from the terrible thought of losing Arwith - something she could not remotely have understood when she first met Mirrim - and she was grateful that her dragon was asleep. Beauty, hearing Menolly's distress, lifted her head from where she was picking at discarded bits from a wherry breastbone and trilled comfortingly, while several of the other lizards hummed.)

"Good," Mirrim said, easily now, although she glanced at the lizards in curiosity at what had caused their reaction. "She's doing much better since - the Hatching. I asked about if she was ready to meet you, you know--"

"Mirrim!"

"You're my friend," Mirrim said, looking surprised. "And she has to meet you eventually anyway, you're the new weyrwoman. She said she'd suggested to Lessa and F'lar that you be included in a meeting on the Rooms this week, since you're a weyrwoman, they're going to tell you about the secret project they're working on there." Here she sent a sly look Menolly's way. "Will you tell me what's going on?"

"If I can," Menolly promised, laughing, and reached absently to disentangle Reppa and Auntie Two, who had reached for the same choice piece of meat at the same time.

It turned out that Brekke came up to meet Menolly that evening while Menolly was oiling Arwith. Arwith noticed, first; she lifted her head and turned one whirling eye on Menolly, and said, _Brekke wants to know if we're accepting visitors. Can we? I like her_ , she said, slightly plaintively.

"Of course," Menolly said, surprised, and "I didn't know you knew Brekke."  
 _We are with her,_ Arwith said, with the slight cast to the word _we_ that told Menolly she meant all of the dragons, at least of the Weyr. _She doesn't like to be alone. But I would like to see her up close_ , she said plaintively, just as soft footfalls came around the bend from the staircase up.

Menolly turned and got her first view of Brekke, Mirrim's foster mother, once rider of gold Wirenth. She was thin, built like a slighter Menolly and similarly flat of chest and build, but her hair was curly. She had a soft, yearning look in her eyes as she turned on Arwith, but - to Menolly's private relief - she showed no severe pain.

"I remember how much work this age was," she said in a wry way as she came the rest of the way into Menolly and Arwith's weyr. "She looks well. Good day, Arwith," she added. 

Menolly heard Arwith return the greeting, eyes whirling happily. "Good day, Brekke," Menolly said, echoing her dragon. "Mirrim has - said a lot about you," she said, trying not to think about how worried Mirrim had been.

"I've heard much about you this month, too," Brekke said. Menolly belatedly asked her to sit and remembered she was in a position to offer refreshments as occupant of her own weyr, but Brekke demurred, offering to help oil Arwith instead. Before Menolly could put her off, feeling guilty, she heard Arwith accept; so Brekke took up another pot of oil.

They worked in silence for a few moments, Menolly rubbing oil into stretched patches of skin on Arwith's shoulder and recalling when she had first noticed Beauty needed oil back in the cave near Half Circle. Fleetingly she wondered how her family was, and whether her parents had heard about her Impression yet. She knew they must eventually, as the names of all weyrwomen were taught in the Name Song along with Weyrleaders, wingleaders and wingseconds, but she had tried to push back that thought over the last weeks. It had been easier to think of her family believing her dead in Threadfall.

Arwith turned her head and creeled in distress at that thought, and Menolly instantly apologized for upsetting her. She fell to her knees to pull Arwith's head against her chest and caress the ridges comfortingly.

She had entirely forgotten Brekke's presence, until she said, "Arwith says you're worried about your parents learning of your Impression?"

Menolly resisted the urge to scold Arwith for telling on her the way she would her fire lizards. "I was no use to them," she said, scratching Arwith's head and deflecting, gently, the urge towards rage she felt building in her dragon's mind. "And... They thought I was a disgrace." The words came painfully, but Menolly knew she could not hope to keep it a secret forever, not when she would almost certainly have to speak to or see her father eventually at some Hatching or tithing.

Brekke regarded her quietly. After a moment, she said, "I hadn't had the impression from Mirrim you were very... precocious."

Menolly had a moment of stark confusion before she understood and blushed, pushing down the thoughts Brekke had conjured before Arwith could hear. "Not - that way," she said, falteringly. "But my music--" She stopped, but Brekke did not seem confused, and most of the Weyr had seen her and Oharan going over scores with the gitar in hand over meals in the Lower Caverns, so she assumed Brekke must know. "They thought it was a disgrace for a girl to be so - outspoken as to sing her own songs, and a waste of time. And when Petiron died, and someone had to take up the Teaching until the new Harper came..." 

She hadn't had time to think about this in weeks. Arwith, picking up her distress, was agitated, tail lashing, eyes whirling red-orange. Quickly, with the same strength Menolly had learned to deal with her fire lizards when they were distressed, she forced the emotions down and kissed the tip of Arwith's snout. _We are here_ , she said.

_They are gone and they will not touch you or see you or I will bite them!_ Arwith said.

Menolly stifled an appalled giggle. "You won't have to bite them," she said. "Yanus wouldn't dare assault a weyrwoman." Then she glanced at Brekke, shy again.

"I see why you asked Manora not to tell them you were safe," Brekke said, slowly. "I'm craftbred, you know - farmercraft - and some of the attitudes Holders have are... strange to me, almost as much as the weyrfolk. You belong here now; you did even before Arwith."

"I know," Menolly said, and smiled slowly, feeling Arwith's contentment. "But you came up to talk to me about something," she said, embarrassed to have dominated the conversation with her troubles and remembering, too, that Brekke had not been dragonless that long - although according to Mirrim she preferred to be occupied with other things whenever she could be, as long as she was not alone.

"I wanted to meet Mirrim's friend," Brekke said, petting Arwith's side and going back to assisting in oiling her hide at the neck. "And I thought I might have a better chance of it alone than at the meeting. Lessa feels you're a bit petrified of her, you know."

"Lessa is--" Menolly stopped. "Intimidating," she said.

"She is," Brekke said with a smile. "And you're young to Impress gold - not too young," she added, seeing Menolly's anxiety. "Many of the male riders Impress younger than you by Turns. Queens tend to be malleable when they Impress, and there's a preference for gold riders to be older at first Impression - weyrwomen have so much more status sooner - so the candidates presented are often older."

Menolly hesitated. There was a question on her mind that Brekke, who heard all dragons, might be able to answer. But she was afraid of even verbalizing it to herself, in case it should distress Arwith. If she ever were to think for a moment that Menolly did not want her...

_Of course you want me,_ Arwith said. _I am yours and you are mine and we are together._

Well! That was that. Menolly said, "I keep wondering, ever since the Hatching, why Arwith _did_ pick me. She wanted you at first, and then I thought it would be Talina..."

The Ruathan candidate was among those who had stayed at the Weyr, finding it preferable to Hold life in various ways. The Weyr could nearly always use more workers in the Lower Caverns as support staff for the dragons, and too, with three breeding queens who all laid gold eggs with some regularity, Talina might Impress at a later Hatching.

"As I said, queens are... malleable," Brekke said, slowly. "They usually choose from those who are presented. Of course, it's beneficial to the species that queen dragons aren't as selective. If there isn't a suitable candidate and one is lost..."

Brekke's breath hitched; Menolly was appalled and guilty, but Arwith swung her head around and said to her, clearly audible to Menolly, We are here. When Brekke refocused she added, _And it was a silly question. I wanted Menolly because Menolly was there._

Brekke smiled. "There you have it," she said, and went on, "It's rare that queens choose from the crowd because they don't tend to get past the circle of candidates, but you went onto the Sands after Berd, thinking to defend Arwith and stop him from misbehaving, so you _were_ in the circle. After that I imagine it was inevitable that you would Impress."

"Me?" Menolly said.

"At Southern there was an entire clutch, you know," Brekke said, looking at Berd, who had followed her into the weyr when Menolly wasn't looking and was now perched next to Uncle. At Brekke's attention he chirped towards her, arching his wings. "Wild wherries had found the clutch and driven off the fair, and they were picking the hatchlings off as we watched. We all tried to save as many as we could, with them dying around us, but most of us Impressed only one. Mirrim Impressed three, and the rest..."

"Oh." Menolly swallowed, remembering her own desperate pleading with the lizards not to go out into the Thread. "Their clutch hatched during Threadfall. It was in the cave, so I could block the entrance, or try to... But I up-ended a bag of spider claws and put them into the middle of it..."

Brekke smiled and said, again, "You were meant to be here. Your Impression wasn't a mistake."

_Of course not,_ Arwith said, indignant, and Menolly bent to throw her arms around her dragon's neck.

Attending a meeting with F'lar and Lessa's council of advisors was just as nerve-wracking as Menolly had expected it to be. Arwith was restless, curious about the meeting but with the attention span of any young child, and Menolly kept expecting to need to dash out to attend her, although she had made very sure to bathe and feed her dragon before the meeting was due to begin. 

The meeting itself took place in the Rooms Menolly had heard about off the Lower Caverns but never seen. She stopped dead, walking in, looking at the strange diagrams on the wall and baked into the surface, the oddly perfect walls, the single sheet of smooth counter; and, incongruous against all of the alien, timeless features of the Room, the tubs of plants growing there.

F'lar, behind her, chuckled. "Interesting room, isn't it?" he said. "We found something like this--" He walked past her and touched the spiral diagram on the wall, "On a plate in Fort Weyr, but it didn't make much more sense."

"It must mean _something_ ," Menolly said, half-consciously, and went to examine it herself, but it meant no more to her.

Then several of the others began to arrive; and F'lar, bending to the closest plant, introduced Menolly to the concept of the grubs.

"You're saying these - eat Thread," Menolly said, leaning down herself, curiously. The grub - a small, squirming gray insect - was not what she would call beautiful or heroic as a subject. But then, neither was a spider claw, and those had once saved a fire lizard clutch. These, if F'lar was right, would save Pern - for once and for all. 

"Aye," said F'nor, coming in. "We've tested them in Lemos and a few other places, in small fields - we can only collect so many from Southern in a year without being caught by the Oldtimers - and there hasn't been a single burrow."

"We're working on persuading the Lord Holders and other notables," F'lar said, a curious twist to his mouth. "But..."

"They're not very pretty, are they?" Menolly dropped to her knees to investigate the dirt herself, frowning. "Not like the ballads about dragons... Not to mention they're not traditional." There was some twist of phrase at the back of her mind, hovering... "No one is going to want to sing about our duty to the grubs, but - rescued by the earth... Something about Pern saving us in return for our years of service, maybe?" She tapped out a rhythm against her thigh, frowned, and corrected it. Her fingers itched for hide, or just a sand table to work out the details on...

The room had gone curiously silent. She looked up nervously, suddenly horribly aware that she was _not_ talking to Oharan but the Weyrleader about her tunings.

F'lar was grinning. F'nor and Brekke were exchanging glances, while Lessa was leaning to talk to a tall man Menolly didn't know who had just entered, but was wearing Harper blue...

"Weyrwoman Menolly," the unfamiliar man said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Lessa tells me you come from Half Circle Sea Hold."

"I - yes," Menolly said, barely averting a disastrous, now incorrect _sir_. "Originally, I'm... daughter to Sea Holder Yanus and his wife Mavi."

"Would you happen to be," the man asked, now studying her, "The apprentice of Master Petiron, before his death?" and when Menolly, feeling oddly trapped, nodded, he said, "I believe he sent me some songs of yours." Turning to the others, he added "That song about the fire lizard, that we've been spreading about, that was exactly what we needed? That was Weyrwoman Menolly's; she left it among the Harper Records at Half Circle. F'lar, Lady Lessa, I believe we may have a solution to the problem of the grubs."

"Masterharper," Menolly stammered, but grins were spreading slowly around the notables who had gathered around the room. 

Brekke moved, then, to the counter and opened the curiously constructed cabinets, taking out sheets of paper that had been stowed there. "I take care of the plants here," she said, seeing Menolly watching her, "So I put this here for record keeping. Go ahead and write down whatever you were thinking before we lose it, and we'll fill you in on the grubs."

"And the rest of F'lar's revolutionary plans," F'nor added, grinning. "You'll have to thank Arwith later," he said to his half-brother. "She's found you a - a propagandist for the Weyr."

"I'm just--" Menolly stopped, knowing that she could no longer honestly say she was 'just' a girl; the only thing she could think to say is, "I wasn't really formally trained..."

"Apprenticeship under a competent Master has long been recognized," Master Robinton told her, coming over to study her up close. "If you had been brought to the Hall," and there was an odd, wistful note to his voice that Menolly was not sure she could credit she was hearing properly, "You might well have walked the tables to journeyman soon, depending on the rest of your abilities. But," and he cast an amused look at F'lar, consulting with his half-brother, "Benden will make use of your abilities itself. I wonder if I might visit you - and pay my duty to young Arwith - to discuss those songs of yours, Weyrwoman Menolly?"

"Of course, Masterharper," Menolly said, wide eyed.

After this mutual discovery the meeting was an anticlimax. Menolly was very aware that she was the youngest there by many Turns; the other junior weyrwomen had both been twenty and some Turns at Impression and were now about a decade older than Menolly. She concentrated on listening and understanding as much as she could. She was reluctant to ask questions at first, but then, looking down at the paper in her lap, she reminded herself it was her job, now, to decide how to propagate this information. She needed to understand it first if she was to write a new Teaching Ballad.

Arwith kept growing, and Menolly kept scrubbing her, and feeding her, and writing music when she was asleep or, rarely, awake and content. 

The ballad of the grubs - which was not supposed to be called that, but everyone did anyway - took her two weeks to compose. It was an eternity by Menolly's standards, since she was used to lyrics and melodies tapping at her until she could no longer resist writing them down. But then, she had never set out to write a song for a specific purpose before. Even when Petiron had challenged her to compose in a certain form or demonstrate the use of a key for the sake of the Craft, he had left the topics up to her. 

The strangest thing about it to Menolly was that this ability of hers was not just well-received, but admired. F'lar and Lessa, who Menolly was slowly growing accustomed to but still more than slightly intimidated by, looked on with interest. 

Lessa said that she couldn't make heads or tails of what Menolly was doing after spending a disconcerting hour sitting with her, watching. Menolly was supposedly being instructed, but actually working on the new ballad while Lessa went over the Records for the month before they were archived. 

"I mean," Lessa said, craning her head over Menolly's shoulder - she was so much shorter than Menolly that she had to half-stand to do it - "The words make sense when you sing them - that was a good thought about shelter in the earth, it sounds more attractive than grubs in the dirt by far. But how you put them together like that, and start working with the gitar..."

"Well, there are certain formulas for most Teaching Ballads," Menolly said. "They're not all in major keys, the Question Song wasn't--" and she blushed to lecture Lessa about that, but Lessa was listening with curiosity, "But the minor keys are usually for tragedies or challenges or - there's a list somewhere, but this is meant to be an instructional ballad, something like a new addition to the Duty Cycle. Once I had that thought I knew I wanted it to _feel_ like a piece of that Cycle, so I'd want to work in the same key." 

She picked up the gitar lying on the table beyond their piles of hide, and strummed the first few chords to illustrate. Lessa, whose face had started to glaze over, suddenly was smiling in recognition. 

"--Every Pernese hears that song as a child and learns it early," Menolly went on. "So I thought if the ballad of the grubs," and now they had _Menolly_ calling it that, "Was written so that it slotted into place it would be easier to accept, wouldn't it? It would _feel_ right. sAnd they have a certain formula, even though each verse is different, the melody is transposed for the different sectors of society--"

"I'll take your word for it, I think," Lessa said, cutting Menolly off; but she was amused.

Master Robinton came to see Menolly at the end of the fortnight. Arwith was restless that night with itching, saying her hide was unbearable, and Menolly, already feeling overwhelmed by her august visitor, felt nearly overwrought. It was difficult enough to talk to F'lar and Lessa, or the Mastersmith Fandarel, or any of the other famous personalities with which she was now technically near in rank, but she had never thought to speak to any of them before and never had any expectations of how it might go. The time she had seen F'lar spiral in to speak to her father after a Fall had been the closest she'd ever thought to come.

The Masterharper, though, she had heard about from Petiron - albeit in small amounts. She had had her songs sent to Master Robinton for consideration. If things had been different - if Menolly had been a boy, say, or had she not Impressed Arwith - she might have become an apprentice in his Craft.

"Peace, Weyrwoman Menolly," Robinton told her, seeing her uncertainty. "I'll pay my respects to golden Arwith," and he turned, bowing to Arwith, who quieted for a moment to inspect him, eyes whirling curiously. "--And go have a seat in your weyr until you're able to speak with me. The young require our attention, sometimes without pause. A call down to the kitchens for a cup of Benden's red, and I'll be entirely content to wait."

_Arwith_ , Menolly told her dragon with some despair but less anxiety, _Have a care, he's the Masterharper!_

Arwith chirped after Robinton as he left, curiously. _You want him to like you_ , she said, with a dragon's directness. _He does. That is good. But I want to see him._

Beauty chirped back at that thought, and took off from the weyr to follow Robinton into the living quarters to the side. Arwith quieted. _Beauty will show me_ , she said to Menolly. _He sits at the table and looks at the papers._

My papers! Menolly thought and stifled a moan of embarrassment. She had left her last drafts out, trying to decide on the best "good" version for the Masterharper's consideration for this meeting.

Arwith, who like the fire lizards loved music - especially when Menolly played or sang - and unlike them sometimes commented on Menolly's composition process when she was deciding between chords or word choices, still understood the concept of writing very loosely and musical notation not at all. Menolly had tried, when she expressed curiosity, to hold up a piece of paper to her whirling eye one day. Arwith had been baffled.

Arwith's eyes whirled red with Menolly's distress, and Diver above her trumpeted. Menolly quickly calmed them and persuaded Arwith to lie still so she could finish oiling her neck - fortunately she was nearly done - and then, the sedentary position finally making her sleepy, to settle down for a nap so that Menolly could at last scrub the oil off her skin and go to join the Masterharper.

"I really am sorry to keep you waiting," she said, belatedly remembered that as a weyrwoman she wasn't supposed to cringe and apologize, and went to draw up a chair to cover for her mistake. "I hope your journey from Fort was easy?"

"Very, thank you." Master Robinton courteously poured wine for her into the second cup from the kitchen. Menolly, who had already learned that her utter lack of experience with the drink before coming to the Weyr meant she had better be very careful with it, took a polite sip and then a piece of fruit from the tray to cover for her failure to drink more. "Now, this ballad - I take it these are your drafts?"

"Yes, I was working on it when Arwith roused," Menolly said, looking over his shoulder. He had assembled the clean copy with the three previous drafts Menolly had left out around it. She saw a few notations on the drafts in a new ink color that must be his since his arrival. "I hope it's - serviceable," she said, fumbling, seeing his corrections and feeling her heart sink.

"Not at all, Menolly." Robinton raised a hand to stall her protests. "Revision is a necessary part of composition, Weryrwoman; I made some adjustments to the fire lizard song, much what you would have done if you'd had time, I think. I'm grateful you left the drafts out - I agree with you about the final melody I think in the most part, although I'm not sure what the purpose of this chord you added is..."

"I'd thought, to echo the pattern in the Duty Cycle," Menolly said, grateful she had discussed this with Lessa a few days ago and had the words ready.

"Ah, of course, that does explain it. But _not_ at the expense of the song's own melodic integrity," Robinton said, neatly striking the chord from the record. "If you wanted to place something else there instead..."

The session was exhausting, although it took only an hour or so. Menolly several times had to suppress her fire lizards from reacting to her own embarrassment, and was both mortified by that and relieved that Arwith had fallen asleep quickly once persuaded to lie down. Robinton was sympathetic but she felt certain he was hiding exasperation. At the end of the session, though, Arwith woke enough to tell Menolly he was amused, and, before Menolly could stop her, commented on it _to_ him.

He turned pensive at the draconic query. "I imagine you're used to criticism of your playing, working with Petiron," he said to Menolly with tolerant amusement. "But composition was - no, that isn't quite it; he was brilliant at composing songs for Harpers, or for Singers, but this sort of thing wasn't his forte. Petiron did not like to fail, or to perform badly. So, yes, I can see that he would have preferred to wait for you to come to the Hall to learn about composition, thinking it would be soon enough, rather than risk steering you wrong."

"Did you know him well?" Menolly asked, stifling both immense curiosity and automatic defensiveness of her beloved master. She firmly told Beauty, who considered hissing, that no one was being attacked. Beauty sulked, but permitted Robinton to stroke her cheek as he thought, visibly about the answer to the question.

"Few people knew Petiron well," Robinton said at last, "Including his wife, who they said he married above all for her singing voice - she was a Mastersinger herself. There have been fewer Singers at the hall in more recent Turns, since Fax; it was always a mostly female trade. I worked with him at times, but my interests were more, I think, like yours. He stopped composing after his wife's death, and eventually asked for the assignment to Half Circle, which we anticipated would be a difficult one." He paused, then, smiling at Beauty, a strange expression. "He was my father, you know."

"I didn't," Menolly said, appalled and amazed all at once. "He never said... He told me you would hear him out, because he was a Master, but..."

"He could be strange about some things, Lady Menolly," Robinton said. "I wish he had been clearer about the fact that the problem was that you were a girl - if I had known, I might have spared you significant grief, from what Manora especially has mentioned about you. But then you wouldn't have Arwith," he said, bowing his head towards the weyr proper.

"Not have Arwith!" Menolly said; for all it had been her lifelong dream to be a Harper, already that thought was inconceivable.

"Indeed. In any case, Petiron said in his letter he thought you were trained well enough to journeyman-level skill, referring to you as his apprentice, although he deferred the final judgment to the Hall. You needn't feel badly trained, or insufficiently trained, when handling the duties of a Harper," Robinton added, suddenly intent, and touching the final copy they had made of the altered version. "You're a weyrwoman first, of course - Lessa and F'lar make that clear," and he smiled at that ambiguous remark, "But you have a gift for music, and particularly lyrics that the common people will understand and melodies that make them linger long enough to be absorbed. It will be useful to all of Pern. Write down any more songs that occur to you, please - and if I can take the fair copy--"

"Please, Masterharper," Menolly said, finally finding words and rising as Robinton rolled up the freshly copied sheet, "And let me see you to the stairs, at least."

"My duty to you and Arwith," Robinton said at the top of the steps, bowing to each of them in turn; and went to go.

Menolly felt exhausted, as though she had just made the run from Half Circle to her cave again. Her head ached and her knees were weak. Petiron had said that she would have made a good journeyman already - F'lar and Lessa had spoken to the Masterharper about her, and she was wanted by _both_ \--

Of course, she must have Arwith now, and she could not imagine life without her, not really. Even now she longed for Arwith's waking presence as the little queen napped. But althoguh she would never have the time to become a Masterharper, never formally hold rank in the Harper Hall, she would keep writing music. She had been asked to keep writing music. And at least one of her songs would become a new Teaching Ballad - and _that_ was more than she had dreamt even in her wildest fantasies.

When Arwith was just over a year old, Lessa, F'lar and the weyrlingmaster cleared her for their first flight.

Menolly had watched the weyrlings from their clutch trying out their wings for months, not without envy. But queens grew larger and even though they also grew at a faster rate, they took longer to mature. Lessa had been prevented from flying Ramoth until she was two years old and Lessa took things into her own hands - although Menolly was amazed at the idea of anyone _preventing_ Lessa from doing anything. ("You would be surprised," Lessa had said, sardonic at Menolly's astonishment.)

Now, at last, she would be able to try out flight for herself with Arwith. Menolly checked the harness one more time, reassuring herself that her stitches were neat and strong, the leather supple, all in good repair. Then she began to harness Arwith, who was jubilant with anticipation and had to be told several times to hold still. Menolly's fire lizards knew something was happening; they swooped throughout the weyr, creeling and crying and getting in the way, until Menolly got fed up and ordered them all to wait outside on the ledge and they went _between._

Finally, Menolly and Arwith made their way to the ledge. They were met by the current weyrlingmaster, hovering on his brown with enough airspace for Arwith left. Holding her breath with anticipation, Menolly grabbed the flight straps and walked up Arwith's shoulder ridge, settling herself into place.

_You are here?_ Arwith craned her head around to get a look at Menolly, making her giggle. Then she straightened, suddenly attentive. _We are to take off and hover alongside and I am to tell you if I get tired. I am not tired! You are easy to carry_ , Arwith declared, and - waiting only a moment for Menolly to grab the straps again - she took off.

Menolly's stomach dropped; she gasped in the thrill of air rushing around her as Arwith brought them airborne. She hovered, at last, over Benden on her own dragon. She had ridden with T'gran when she came to Benden and with others a few times since, mostly in her capacity as songwriter for the Weyr and F'lar's council of advisors. But being astride Arwith, hanging supported only by the fighting straps instead of cushioned against another's back, and knowing that she and Arwith working in tandem were the determiners of their path through the air was completely different. She turned an exultant grin on the weyrlingmaster, who smiled back at their first flight; then Arwith began to convey further instructions.

Menolly and Arwith were both starving that evening. Having flown once, Menolly was free to sit aboard Arwith's back on the way to the Feeding Grounds instead of taking the long stairs, a much more pleasant task; they were able and encouraged to practice now, although flying _between_ would have to wait for formal instruction. 

Menolly thought, sliding off Arwith's shoulder and watching her circle above the Feeding Grounds, that she could get used to not having to walk all that way. Exhilaration made her grin again. She, Menolly of Benden, was a real dragonrider, now! By this time next Turn, she would be flying Threadfall in the queen's wing with Ramoth and Lessa.

"Menolly!" a voice called behind her on the path into the bowl; and as Menolly turned, Mirrim came jogging up the path. "I thought I saw Arwith," she said, catching up breathlessly and slinging an arm around Menolly in greeting. Menolly hugged Mirrim tightly back as she kept talking: "She's beautiful in the air, you know, Brekke and F'nor both say so. I saw you make your first flight with her earlier, you looked wonderful! Was she tired? She doesn't look tired now."

"She says carrying me is easy," Menolly said, and heard the effusive affection in her voice as though it was a stranger speaking for a moment. She sounded like Sella going on about Harper Elgion! She hadn't thought about her sister nor Petiron's replacement in months. Well, Arwith was a much more worthy target than any man, Harper or not, Menolly thought, turning her eyes towards the Feeding Grounds again, where Arwith was selecting a second beast, the fire lizards collecting on the remains of her first meal.

"You've gone all soppy eyed," Mirrim said, amused. "No, riders always sound like that about their dragons, don't they? Think she could carry me with you or will we have to wait until she grows a bit more? Or didn't the weyrlingmaster say anything to you about passengers yet?"

_I could carry Mirrim_ , said Arwith. Menolly noticed that it was _Mirrim_ , not _her_ or an image. Arwith had been using Mirrim's name more and more often of late. 

"She says she could take you," Menolly said. "We're allowed to take passengers, it just has to be one at a time until she reaches full growth. Do you want to come up to the weyr, or do you still have chores?"

"I just finished in the kitchens for today," Mirrim said, groaning and stretching her neck and shoulders. "We had about a dragon weight of dishes to do after the birthing feast yesterday - not that I'm complaining! Felena's alright and so is the baby although she hasn't named her yet. Is she done?" Mirrim pursed her lips and squinted at Arwith.

Menolly sent an inquiry back. Arwith was indignant, but Menolly estimated that she wasn't actually hungry enough for more than one more. "I think she will be soon," she said to Mirrim. "Do your lizards need to eat?"

"Won't she mind?" Mirrim asked.

_They may come_ , Arwith said without prompting. _I feed my friends. Mirrim's fire lizards are my friends._

"She says they're her friends, so they can eat with her," Menolly said, grinning foolishly again. 

Arwith soon finished her meal and bent to allow Menolly to walk up the straps and bend, offering an arm up to Mirrim.

"It's nice that you're so tall," Mirrim said, wrapping an arm around Menolly's waist and nestling her head against her shoulder. "You're a good windbreak."

"Thanks," Menolly said, amused, and feeling her stomach flutter suddenly at the warmth of Mirrim pressed into her back. She had been very aware of Mirrim's body when they touched, recently. She rapidly told Arwith to ascend, and felt her stomach drop for entirely different reasons at the jolting lift.

_Sorry_ , Arwith said apologetically. _I am still getting used to this_.

"It's no trouble, darling," Menolly told her absently, adjusting the flight straps for Mirrim to hold on.

"Oh, this is much nicer than taking the stairs," Mirrim said a few moments later, sliding off on the weyr's ledge. "Tell Arwith I said thanks?"

_You are welcome_ , Arwith said.

"Oh! I heard that!" Mirrim looked around in surprise, then caught Menolly's eye and grinned. "Thanks again, Arwith." She patted her shoulder as Menolly slid off. "Does she need to be oiled? I can help - how you manage with a queen, _and_ nine..."

"They help with Arwith now that they're older," Menolly said, unbuckling the harness so that Arwith could trundle off. "But I oiled her earlier, she doesn't need it quite yet. Stick around and I'll make you work for it, though."

"Paying for your hospitality?" Mirrim said, grinning. "I'll start now, give me your flight jacket while you finish unstrapping her."

They were soon seated in the living quarters. For all Menolly had said she was done with _Arwith_ , Diver landed in her lap, crying to be oiled, no more than a few seconds after she sat down, and she realized that several of her friends needed attention. Mirrim was willing enough to help, and soon after they had settled in to discuss the events of the Lower Caverns while grooming lizards, Reppa, Lok and Tolly joined them, nudging their way into the queue of lizards waiting for attention.

"How do any of us get any time to sleep?" Menolly asked, laughing, as she spread oil on Tolly's wings and began rubbing it gently into the thin membrane.

"I've no idea," Mirrim said. "Although at least Thread is back to its usual pattern - when I think how we did it a Turn ago, with it falling every few days, and those Oldtimers, and..." She trailed off, thinking, no doubt, of the battle between the queens, and said briskly, "Well, we're at Benden now and things are settling down."

"So they are," Menolly said, feeling fond of Mirrim and her brisk assurances. Tolly crawled off her lap with a chirp of thanks and took up a perch on the table, and Menolly saw, turning to check the lizards, that he seemed to be the last waiting for attention; Mirrim had Auntie One now and was rubbing oil into her shoulder, while Auntie One twined into her hands.

"Which one is she?" Mirrim asked, seeing Menolly's attention. "Is this One or Two? --I have to say I'm glad _Arwith_ named herself."

Menolly giggled despite herself. "You try naming _nine fire lizards_ while living in a cave without anyone's advice to ask or any time to do anything but hunt for food," she said. "I've been tempted to change theirs, and Uncle's, but it isn't as if they care."

"We might!" Mirrim said, and blushed.

Menolly blinked at her, surprised by the insinuation, then turned her eyes to Reppa. The lizard was sitting on Mirrim's shoulder and starting to turn an eye catching, luminous shade of green. "Mirrim," Menolly said, slowly. "Look at Reppa."

Mirrim turned her head and went pale under her still-pink cheeks. "Menolly," she said, and it sounded half apology, half plea. "I can - get them down to the Lower Caverns, or--"

"Don't go," Menolly said reflexively. She had wondered occasionally about this aspect of fire lizard life, learning what to anticipate when Arwith rose, but had not had any time to really dwell on the issue. But of course, she wasn't the only one in Benden with multiple female fire lizards - and Mirrim was her own age. "If not me, who--" She tried to think who else had fire lizards old enough to mate now, for most of the subsequently located clutches, in addition to going outside the Weyrs, were much younger. "Oh - Brekke's Berd--"

That would be unthinkable.

"G'sel's at High Reaches, but some of the others' might be old enough to answer," Mirrim said. The blush was gone now, but she still was uncertain. "I don't - mind, really, but--"

_She would rather have you_ , Arwith said to Menolly, intruding on the conversation.

"Arwith is still young," Menolly said anxiously. She had been warned not to do anything that would risk Arwith's development, not that it had been necessary when she had only ever had attention for music before, and her fire lizards and Arwith alongside it since. 

"Not that young, the greens start rising around a year," Mirrim said. "And we don't have to do - much - F'nor's Grall rose last month, and they said the fire lizards weren't as overwhelming as dragons..." 

Mirrim's eyes were unfocused. Reppa was looking about her, gauging the attention of the other fire lizards.

"All right," Menolly said; they had to make up their minds quickly, if it was a choice between Mirrim staying and Mirrim getting all the way down to the Bowl and finding the others who had male lizards. "All right - for all you know, Tolly will catch her, you know," she said; but with a wave of tenderness for Mirrim, she went to take her friend's shoulder and lead her from the table to sit on the pallet with Menolly's sleeping furs.

The fire lizards seemed almost to have been waiting for permission. With a shriek, Reppa launched herself off, flying towards the ledge and free air. The others followed, fluttering around her, the other greens following along with Reppa in glee. Beauty circled above the flight, watching, and Menolly reached out to her in concern at the prospect of conflict, but she made Menolly understand that the greens were in no way competition for her.

_She is supervising_ , Arwith said, amused.

_You're not bothered, love?_ Menolly asked her. With six of her fire lizards in pursuit of Reppa and the three remainder flying alongside, she felt curiously outside herself, aware more of the acrobatics of the flight than of Mirrim next to her on the sleeping furs. But she was still herself, still with Arwith, not consumed as she had been told she would be when Arwith rose.

_I like Mirrim. She likes me. You like each other. The little ones, too_ , Arwith said definitively.

Menolly giggled and saw Mirrim's eyes focus with difficulty. "Arwith approves," she said, and leaned down, touching Mirrim's dark hair. "Should I..."

"I suppose we might as well - while we still know what we're doing," Mirrim said, and reached up to take Menolly's cheek in her hand and kiss her.

With so many lizards flying together, all bonded to the two of them, Menolly was almost uncertain which actually caught Reppa. The emotions were refracted through the whole flight and through Menolly and Mirrim back to each other, so that it was everyone's triumph and not a particular fire lizard's victory.

Menolly and Mirrim by then were sprawled on the sleeping furs, arm in arm, still mostly dressed but dazed. Menolly kissed Mirrim's shoulder, feeling Mirrim's sure, graceful fingers digging into her thick hair. 

"Oh," Mirrim said, voice odd, perhaps only because she was speaking softly and slowly for once. "It was Rocky."

"Was it?" Menolly half turned, and saw, indeed, that Reppa and Rocky were flying closest together, wings overlapping. "Green lizards clutch, don't they? I wonder how long it will take..."

"I wonder if we'll get any say in where the eggs go," Mirrim mumbled, but she wasn't prepared to take up any grievances, for once. "I should tell them where I am..."

"You've no duties until tomorrow, Mirrim," Menolly said, and repeating something she had heard riders tell Mirrim, but gently, "You're not Headwoman yet."

Mirrim giggled. "No, I'm not," she said, and reaching up, tugged Menolly back down by the shoulder to hug her. "Will you sing something for me, Weyrwoman Harper?"

"Just as soon as I can get up," Menolly said, laughing, too.

**Author's Note:**

> We don't see a lot of detail about junior weyrwomen's duties, but since Brekke apparently chose which tasks to concern herself with I assume Menolly would take over what she was most useful for. We also don't really see any weyrwomen aside from Lessa just after Impression, so I'm making some guesses about how different the weyrling stage is for normal queen riders.
> 
> In Dragonquest F'lar suggests they'll need to send the third junior queen away at maturity because of Ramoth, but Talina seems to stay associated with Benden for a while, so I'm assuming that turned out to be unnecessary.


End file.
